AU. Harry didn't go to Hogwarts, he went to Stonewall Secondary. His main goal in life was to leave the Dursleys' and go to college, until Remus Lupin finds him on his seventeenth birthday and his life changes all at once. See Ch 1 AN for more info.

Disclaimer:
HP et al belong to JKR et al. Don't sue. I own nothing of any
importance and all you would get for your trouble would be a bunch of
court costs.

A/N:
BE FOREWARNED! This is an AU fic. This follows canon only to the
point where Hagrid shows up in the shack on the rock in the sea, July
31, 1991 (for people who don't want to try to puzzle out that date,
it's Harry's eleventh birthday, meaning that this tale diverges
from canon in book one.) However, once the story gets going,
elements of the books will surface. Also, as this is an AU tale,
OC's will show up from time to time. There may or may not be
references to SLASH, I haven't decided just yet. If any of these
ideas bothers you, feel free to use that wonderful little back button
on your browser; that's what it's there for. If you choose to
ignore this warning and read onward, then decide to flame me, please
note that the flames will be used to roast marshmallows. I do,
however, enjoy hearing if I'm doing a good job and I rarely write
chapters in advance, so if you have ideas you want to see show up in
the story, drop me a line (this means to review.)

One
last bit, this first posting will cover both the prologue and chapter
one. They would have been posted separately, but the prologue is
really short. It's likely throughout this tale that the chapters
will vary in length considerably from one to another. If they're
really short, though, they will either be posted together or in the
same day.

Prologue

"Absolutely
not! He's not going, and that is that!" Petunia was adamant.

Petunia
took a deep breath, her nose pointed up at the massive man, "We are
the boy's legal guardians; if we say he's not to go to that
horrid place, he won't go. And that is final." She
glared at the man and crossed her skinny arms over her bony chest.

Harry
didn't know what to think. He'd been told time and time again
that there was no such thing as magic. For all the large man before
him was an impressive sight, he had thus far seen no evidence to
support that this was anything more than a cruelly elaborate hoax -
most likely concocted by Dudley; after all, the Dursleys had never
denied the little pig anything else, why should this be any
different?

Harry
watched as the enormous man dug through several pockets in his shaggy
coat, all the while glaring at Harry's aunt and uncle. He withdrew
a long feather quill and a roll of parchment. He scribbled something
down, folded the paper, and reached back into the coat. This time he
pulled out a rather rumpled brown barn owl. "Take this ter
Dumbledore, girl, an' be quick abou' it." All Harry could do
was blink as the owl delicately took the folded-up parchment in her
beak and flew out one of the glassless windows.

Several
silent, strained hours later, the owl returned. The grey light of
predawn cast everything in a gloomy grey light. Dudley snored,
having fallen back asleep once the adults' conversation had petered
out. Hagrid retrieved the note the owl carried, read it over, and
scowled. He then turned to Harry with a grim smile. "Harry,
Dumbledore says yer aunt 'as the law on 'er side, an' we can't
force 'em ter let yeh go ter Hogwarts. But iffen yeh ever need us,
all yeh need do is ask." His smile broadened at the bewildered and
sleepy eleven-year-old.

Harry
shook his head, It's official. This is the weirdest day of my
life.

Chapter
One: Years Later

The
years passed slowly for Harry. Wearing his 'elephant-skin'
uniform, he attended Stonewall Secondary School. Though Dudley
attended Smeltings, Piers Polkis remained Dudley's best friend and
was more than happy to continue the crusade to keep Harry friendless.
Harry didn't mind; it wasn't as if this was a new situation for
him. Besides, how could he miss what he'd never had?

Harry
spent most of his free time studying, mentally preparing for that
blessed day he would finally be able to leave No. 4, Privit Drive
firmly in his past. He excelled at mathematics and science, however
his true talents lay in art and, ironically enough, his Living Skills
class. The Living Skills class covered topics such as cooking,
sewing, balancing a checkbook, and how to purchase a house or car.
The most obvious result of this class was that Harry's uniforms
started fitting much better during his second year than they had
before. The Dursleys, as well, benefitted from the class; meals
Harry made became more complicated and tastier as the years wore on.

On
Harry's fifteenth birthday, Uncle Vernon demanded Harry obtain an
after-school job to 'help pay for his upkeep.' Harry didn't
bother arguing; if there was one thing he had learned from the
Dursleys, it was that arguing inherently made life more difficult.
Three days after the decree had been handed down, Harry found himself
employed at Kellerman's Service Shop - a car-repair center.

During
Harry's interview, Allen Kellerman - the owner - had asked Harry
why he wanted to work. Harry had replied that his uncle wanted him
to help with the bills. Allen had assumed that this meant Harry's
family was rather poor and so had hired Harry on the spot. He hadn't
wanted anyone to live through the hardships he had endured when he
was Harry's age. His misconceptions were cleared up when Vernon
arrived in his brand-new company car. He further learned of Harry's
home life over the course of the next four days. His wife was more
of a gossip than Petunia could ever hope to be, and the Kellermans
lived only a couple of blocks from Harry's family, on Wisteria
Walk.

After
having spoken to Harry, not to mention having seen the results of the
standard pre-employment criminal and background checks, Allen knew
that the rumors of Harry's supposed delinquent status were nothing
more than hogwash. He had the suspicion that the rumors had been
started by Harry's family, but couldn't prove it. Allen decided
that he would do all that was in his power to help the quiet and
polite teenager whenever he could. It came as somewhat of a shock to
Harry when, on his first payday, Allen handed Harry half of his pay
in cash and the other half in check. Since Harry wasn't eighteen,
he wouldn't be able to open a bank account without Vernon or
Petunia co-signing. As he handed Harry his pay, he nodded at the
teen and mentioned, "There's a small travel-safe under the front
desk that never gets used. The combination is seven - five - one -
nine.

Harry
could only respond with a heartfelt, "Thank you, sir,"
understanding that Mr. Kellerman was allowing him a means of eventual
escape from the Dursleys.

During
the course of the following two years, Harry managed to save enough
money to be able to attend a two-year vocational school, and if he
managed to keep his grades up, he thought he might be able to get
enough in supplemental scholarships to attend a real university. He
had no idea what, exactly, he wanted to study; but that didn't stop
him from wanting to further his education. His art teacher had
suggested he might be able to get an art scholarship, if he applied
to schools in the US. Harry felt rather partial to that idea. At
least, it would get him as far as possible from the Dursleys' home.

During
that same two-year period, Harry found himself virtually adopted by
his boss and the three other men that worked at the shop. Allen and
his wife had been unable to have children of their own and looked on
Harry as the son they never had. Harry also had three unlikely older
'brothers' in his coworkers. Tim Marshfield was thirty-five and
was something of a science nut. He belonged to a local amateur
astronomy club, as well as the Model Airplane and Rocket Association.
Mike Peterson was the youngest of the three mechanics, at
twenty-four, and spent much of his spare time running around after
his three-year-old daughter, or hiding from his petite wife. Nigel
Smythwick was perhaps the oddest of the bunch, however. He
absolutely refused to give anyone his age, always stating that he was
'old enough to know better, but still too young to care' whenever
asked. He had an innate grasp of how things fit together and could
tell what was wrong with a car just by listening to the sounds it
made. He also built wooden furniture in his garage, selling it on
the internet for quite a hefty sum.

During
the summer Harry turned sixteen, Nigel showed up for work in a
severely battered old pickup truck. He nicknamed it 'Viridian'
for reasons he refused to disclose. Allen told Harry the next day
that he was going to start spending half of each of his workdays
working with the guys on Viridian. Harry shrugged, assuming that his
boss wouldn't want him learning on a customer's vehicle. He
didn't mind; he liked learning new things and was rapidly becoming
bored in the monotony of the office paperwork. That summer, as
further part of his training, Mike taught Harry how to drive. It was
a tense situation for Harry. They were using Mike's car, and Harry
really didn't want anything to happen to it while he was driving,
and thus responsible for the car's safety. He never breathed easy
until he was allowed to park it back at the shop. The really funny
thing about it was that though Harry never put so much as a scratch
on the car, Mike managed to clip a street sign during a particularly
foggy night. It broke one of the headlights and made a rather
impressive dent in the red metal.

Harry
was the only one at the shop that was unaware that the truck they
were training him on was going to be given to him as a graduation
present, even though that lay two years in the future. Viridian was
a mess, after all. Almost everything needed replaced or repaired in
some fashion. And Tim, as the only one of the four that had seen
some of Harry's artwork, was keen on seeing if he could reproduce
some it in a custom paint job, though that would be the last step.

Two
weeks before Harry's seventeenth birthday, Harry found himself the
first one at the shop. He unlocked the door to the office and had
just turned the computer on when the phone rang. Harry jumped in
surprise before he realized what had happened. He answered after the
second ring, "Kellerman's Service Shop, Harry speaking."

"Hey
Harry. This is Mike."

"Oh,
hey Mike. Whacha need?"

"Allen
in yet?"

Harry
shook his head, then remembered that Mike wouldn't be able to see
it. "Sorry. Not yet. You sick or something?"

Mike
laughed a little, though the sound was more sarcastic than humorous.
"You could say that. I tripped over one of Ashley's toys this
morning and broke my bloody arm."

Harry
grimaced, "Urg. I'll let Allen and the guys know you won't be
in today."

"I
know. However, I still want everyone to sign my cast." There was
a sigh. "And give Allen a bit of time to yell at me properly. You
can't yell at someone properly over the phone."

"Too
true." Harry chuckled. "See you later, then."

"Righto."

The
call ended just as Allen walked in. "If that was Davies, did you
tell him the Olds won't be ready for another three or four days?
That damn filter is on back-order again..."

"No,
it wasn't Davies. It was Mike. Wanted to let you know he probably
won't be in today until afternoon. He said three or four."

Allen
stowed his lunch in the small refrigerator in the corner of the
office. "Did he mention why?"

Harry
nodded, "Yeah. He managed to trip over one of his daughter's
toys and broke his arm."

Sighing,
Allen let out a mirthless chuckle, "I always did suspect that small
children were hazardous to one's health." Harry snorted in
reply, before getting started on his work for the day.

When
Mike showed up that afternoon, he told Allen that his doctor had told
him he wasn't to work until the cast came off. Allen groaned at
the revelation. "Six to eight weeks? You did this on purpose,
didn't you? You know the summer months are our busiest!"

Mike
grinned at his boss, Harry had the random thought At least we know
his painkillers are working properly. Mike spoke up before Harry
could descend into the laughter he so wanted to, "Look on the
bright side: We may be busier in the summer, but very little of it's
body work. It's mainly tune-ups for folks going on vacation. It's
not like winter, when every other car needs some sort of ding or dent
patched up. I'm sure Harry'll be able to handle most everything.
If there's something major, call me in and I'll personally
supervise him. This just means that you need to hire a temp worker
to fill in on office-duty until I can come back."

Allen
conceded Mike's point, acknowledging it as a good idea, and placed
an advertisement in the paper the following morning.

Harry's
seventeenth birthday fell on a Thursday. This was good, because the
shop closed early on Thursdays and Sundays. Of course, Vernon didn't
know this. Petunia might have known, but if she did, she didn't
say anything. As Mike wasn't working anyway, he set up
reservations at a local pizza parlor for a party that afternoon. The
guys from the shop knew Harry had never had a birthday party before
and were determined to give him an afternoon to remember.

Oblivious
to the planning around him, Harry went about his birthday just as he
had in the past. He stayed up until midnight and wished himself a
happy birthday with the comforting thought Only 365 more days
until I can leave this place forever. He then fell asleep. He
awoke that morning at seven o'clock, and went through his normal
morning routine of a shower, shave, and getting dressed for the day.
At seven-thirty, he started breakfast. The cooking food roused the
rest of the household. By eight-fifteen, Vernon and Dudley had
finished their meals and left for the drill company where Vernon had
been promoted to senior vice-president and subsequently secured a
summer internship for Dudley, further proving Harry's long-held
belief that nepotism was the only way his cousin would ever be
employed.

Once
they had left, Harry finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes. He
hurried back upstairs and grabbed his coverall for work. Poking his
head into the lounge on his way out the door, he told his aunt, "I'm
not sure what time I'll be back this evening, aunt. We've been a
bit busy since one of the guys broke his arm. If it's not too
late, I'll make sure to mow the lawn tonight. If it is, I'll do
so tomorrow morning." Harry had a vague notion to spend the
afternoon at the library or to maybe go see a movie. Petunia just
nodded to show she had heard Harry, not even bothering looking up
from her crossword puzzle.

A
half-hour walk later, Harry arrived at the shop, where he was greeted
with a pair of cheerful 'Happy Birthday's' from Nigel and Tim.
Harry smiled, "Thanks, guys. Where's Allen?"

Nigel
shrugged, "In the office, I'd imagine. Oh, by the way, old Mrs.
Figg left you a fifty-pound tip for the work you did on her old
beater."

Tim
let out a low whistle, "Christ, Harry, what did you do to earn a
fifty-quid tip?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Harry,
but Harry interrupted him before he could voice whatever filthy joke
he'd intended.

"Don't
even think it, Tim! She used to babysit me when I was little. She
probably realized by birthday was coming up; or - and this is more
likely - she mis-read the note and thought it was a five." Harry
frowned, "In fact, I should stop by and ask her about it this
afternoon after work."

Tim
blinked before remembering that his young friend and de facto little
brother wasn't used to random displays of affection. "You don't
have to do that, Harry. I asked her about it when she was in
yesterday, and you were right the first time. It's, and I quote,
'a birthday gift to make up for the ones I missed before.'" he
pulled off a believable impression of Arabella Figg that had Harry
giggling.

Harry
shook his head and wandered to the office, letting his smile fade. I
should still ask her about it. She couldn't possibly have meant it
to be so much! Harry opened the door to let Allen know he was
there. Allen was sitting at the desk, speaking to an older,
haggard-looking man. "Morning, boss."

"Happy
birthday, Harry." Allen greeted Harry while the teen clocked in.
"This is Lupin. Today, I want you to show him what to do with the
computer and how to handle the paperwork. He's your replacement
until Mike gets that damn cast off."

Harry
nodded, "Sure thing. I'll be out front when you're ready."

Harry
had just finished booting up the computer when the door to the office
opened up, "It's good to have you aboard, Mr. Lupin. Harry here
will make sure you know what you need to do." Allen shook the
man's hand.

Harry
laughed. "You wouldn't happen to have a brother named Romulus,
would you?"

Remus
grinned, "No, sorry to disappoint. I was an only child."

"Well,
shall we get to work?" Harry gestured to the computer.

"After
you, mon ami."

"You're
lucky we've been slow this week; there isn't that much paperwork
to catch up on." Harry proceeded to show Remus his job duties.

At
one o'clock, while Allen closed up the shop and Tim and Nigel took
off, Harry turned off the computer. "And that's about all there
is to it."

Remus
chuckled. "Doesn't seem too difficult."

"It
isn't." Allen said, putting the keys to the shop back in their
hiding spot - a fake brick in the back wall of the building.
"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"The
guys and me are all meeting up over at Carrington's for dinner
tonight. You want to come? You, too, Remus."

"Eh,
why not?" Harry shrugged, "What time?"

"Four."

Harry
grinned, "I'll be there."

"And
you, Remus?"

Remus
nodded, "As I've nothing better to do, I may as well."

"See
you there, then." Allen paused by his car. "Either of you need
a ride anywhere?"

Harry
shook his head as Remus replied, "No. Thank you, anyway, though.
It's too nice a day not to take advantage of it."

"Alright.
See you at Carrington's." Allen got into his car and pulled
away.

Remus
turned to Harry after checking his watch. "It looks like we've a
few hours to kill."

"Seems
so."

"Though
it's been a while since I've been through these parts, I seem to
recall a quiet little pub down the street. Care to see if it's
still there?"

Why
is this always happening to me? I mean, I know I'm a bit smaller
than average, but why do men feel the need to hit on me all
the time? Harry coughed to clear his throat, "Remus, I'm
flattered, really, but you're not my type."

It
took a moment for Harry's comment to sink in, but once it
processed, Remus was overcome with howls of laughter. Once the
laughter had calmed - which took a good few minutes - he looked up at
Harry. Harry was standing a few meters down the sidewalk with his
arms crossed over his chest and glaring at him. "Morgana's
bootlaces, Harry! I haven't laughed like that in years!"

"Glad
I could amuse," Harry dryly replied. "I take it I took your
offer in a way it was not intended?"

Remus
snorted and squashed the urge to break into laughter again.
"Obviously. I just thought we could sit and chat for a bit, as
neither of us has much else to do... At least, I assume not?"

Harry
shook his head. "No. Pardon the assumption, it's just that some
of the older guys in the area have been a bit off the mark about me.
I apologize."

Remus
waived his hand. "Don't worry about it. Quite a few people in
the past have assumed similarly about myself."

"I
guess that explains the laughter. I can see how it would be amusing,
in an ironic sort of way."

"Of
course. Shall we to the pub and a pint or two?"

"Lead
onward."

Ensconced
in a corner booth at O'Malley's Pub, Remus and Harry sat chatting
over a couple of beers. Once Remus thought Harry'd had enough to
listen to him - about two and a half pints - and he'd had enough to
be willing to talk about what he had privately dubbed 'the topic of
doom' - likewise about three pints - he took a deep breath and
caught Harry's eye. Surprisingly, Harry, though slightly tipsy,
managed to pick up on his companion's suddenly serious manner.
"Harry, I did have an ulterior motive in talking with you today..."
He trailed off, unsure, exactly, as to how to explain what he needed
to, without alienating the teen before him.

He
took a deep breath, deciding that the best way forward was the
Gryffindor one. "I knew your parents, Harry, and I've been
recruited - for lack of a better term - to bring you information
about your inheritance."

Harry
blinked, stunned. He shook his head, as if to clear it, once the
information processed. "Inheritance? You're joking. My aunt and
uncle may not be the best of people, but if I had an inheritance
coming to me, I'm sure they would have mentioned something
by now. Either that, or found a way to get it for themselves."

Remus
shook his head, "Ah, but you're assuming that they knew about it,
or even wanted anything to do with it if they did know."

Harry
quirked an eyebrow. "How could they not know? And I doubt there's
anything money-related that the Dursleys wouldn't want to be a part
of."

"Money
is only a small portion of it, Harry."

"But
property, stocks, interests, and the like can all be sold, so just
lump that all under 'money,' okay?"

"No,
Harry, well..." Remus sighed, "there are some properties
involved, but that's not what I'm talking about. There are some
things that just can't be sold."

Harry
snorted, "Almost anything can be sold, Remus. Just about the only
thing that can't are hereditary titles of nobility - and I'm sure
Petunia would have mentioned if I was set to inherit something like
that."

Remus
took a drink of his larger. "I'm beginning to see that I'm
approaching this from the wrong angle. Let me try a different route.
What do you remember about your eleventh birthday?"

Harry
shrugged, "Not much. Why?"

"Humor
me."

Harry
drained his glass and cast his mind back over the years. "I
remember that Uncle Vernon had been acting really odd all week and we
ended up spending a couple of days away from the house. It all
started because of some silly prank - Dudley had sent me a letter.
But on my birthday, Vernon was fine. We came back to Privit Drive
and life returned to normal."

Remus
scrubbed a hand over his face. This wasn't turning out at all like
he'd hoped. "You don't remember Hagrid?" He chuckled a
little, "I always thought he was rather a memorable bloke. How
many men are that size and wander around wearing moleskin coats?"

A
wisp of a memory tickled the back of Harry's mind. Rubeus
Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts... Hogwarts
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry... Yer a wizard... He's not to
go to that horrid place... We can't force 'em ter let yeh go... Harry jumped when Remus shook his shoulder. "Harry?"

Harry's
eyes were rather glassy. "I thought it was a dream. I mean, Aunt
Petunia said-"

"And
that, dear Harry, is the heart of the matter."

Harry
squeezed his eyes shut. "So it all comes down to my relatives."
He scoffed and met Remus' gaze. "Why am I not surprised?"

Remus
smiled, "Well, I've got good news, then. First things first,
though, among our kind, you're a legal adult as of today. You
don't have to go back to them if you don't want to."

Harry
broke into a grin, "Really? Excellent. A full year ahead of
schedule. You mentioned an inheritance?" Remus nodded. "Good.
I assume there's a house in those properties you mentioned, as well
as cash?"

Remus
chuckled again, "Yes and yes."

A
thought suddenly occurred to Harry. He looked at Remus suspiciously,
his grin fading. "I trust you can prove you are who, and more
importantly what, you claim?"

"Of
course." He glanced at his wristwatch. "However, it is getting
a bit late; we told your boss we would meet up with him. We can
continue this conversation afterwards."

Harry
shook his head. "Not likely. I've some things to do this
evening back at the house. I need to get that out of the way first."

Remus
finished off his own beer. "I know your - and I use the term
loosely - family wouldn't be too happy to see me; I also
realize it would be difficult for you to sneak out; therefore, I
propose something of a compromise. Do you have your own room at the
Dursleys'?"

Harry
nodded, "Yeah. It's the smaller of the two bedrooms that face
the front of the house. It's the upper left window, if you're
looking at the house from the street. Should I make sure the
window's unlocked for you?"

Remus
smirked, "No need. Just be in your room at ten tonight and try not
to yell if I show up suddenly."

"Will
do." Harry stood up. "We should probably get going."

Remus
nodded, "Of course."

They
arrived at Carrington's at four-fifteen. Remus held the door for
Harry, and Harry wandered into the small restaurant. His jaw dropped
when he saw that his boss and coworkers had set up a little party for
him. There was even a banner along one wall that read 'Happy
Birthday, Harry!' Harry was a little choked up and had to clear
his throat repeatedly before he could say anything. "Wow. Thanks,
guys."

Mike
grinned. "No problem, little brother. It was the least we could
do."

Harry
shook his head, "No, really, this is more than I expected."

"But
no more than you deserve, kiddo." Allen grinned. "I'm glad you
decided to come by. You were late enough the boys were starting to
get a little worried. However, the pizza should be out, soon. You
like sardines and pineapple, right?"

Harry's
face screwed into an expression that clearly stated what he thought
of that combination. "Don't sweat it, Harry, he's
pulling your chain." Nigel grinned. "Come on, presents, pizza,
beer. What more could a guy ask for?" Nigel pulled Harry to a
table where three shoddily wrapped gifts surrounded a much nicer
wrapped gift.

"Well,
you gonna open them, or just admire them?" Tim asked.

"Here,"
Mike shoved his gift in front of Harry, "open mine first."

Allen
waived Remus over to the table, "Come on, Lupin. Wouldn't have
invited you to just stand around and watch. Pull up a chair."

Harry
tore through the wrapping paper, which appeared to be the comics
section of the Sunday paper. "Couldn't get Amy to wrap it for
you?"

"Nah,
she didn't much approve of the gift in the first place." Mike
tried to hide his smirk as Harry opened the box. Harry stared for a
moment at what was inside before blushing and quickly replacing the
lid.

"Ah,
hell, Harry. It can't be that bad!" Tim said, reaching for the
box. He opened it and started laughing. "Mike? You alright in
the head? Somehow I don't think Harry here will ever use a
hundred-quid pass to a strip club."

Remus
laughed along with everyone else. "Go on, Harry. They can't all
be that bad." He pushed another of the gifts to him.

Harry
read the tag. Well, he read 'To Harry, From Nigel' that was
written in black magic-marker on the plain brown paper. "Somehow,
I think you guys' paper got mixed up..." Nigel snickered and the
other guys just looked confused for a moment. Harry tore the paper
off and saw a rather intricate wooden box. The top of the box were
alternating squares of a light yellow wood and a dark reddish wood.
He opened it and found it was a hand-made chess set. The pieces were
in the same woods as the top of the box. "Wow... Thanks, Nigel.
You made this?"

Nigel
nodded, "Yeah. It's the thirty-second set I've done, and I
think it's the best one so far."

Harry
replaced the lid-cum-playing board. "Thank you." He reached for
the next present, saving the one that was obviously from Mr. and Mrs.
Kellerman for last. This one was wrapped in a generic blue-and-green
'Happy Birthday' paper. It was from Tim. After the previous two
presents, he couldn't even guess what might be in this one. The
box was the biggest and when he opened it, he found two sketch-books
of different sizes, an assortment of pencils, paint and brushes, and
a small airbrush starter kit. "It's fantastic, Tim. I knew I
shouldn't have let you see my projects for art class!"

"Come
on, kiddo. You're good. You deserve better than that cheap stuff
they use at the public schools. There's a gift-voucher in there
for canvasses from that art-supply store over on Pinecrest. It
should be taped to the inside cover of the smaller sketchbook."
Tim waived a waiter over to refill his mug.

Harry
carefully sat the box of supplies aside and grinned as Allen pushed
the final present across the table. It was wrapped up in dark green
paper, tied with a gold bow. The box was the smallest, only a few
inches to either side. "This one's from all of us, Harry."
Harry missed the questioning glance that Nigel shot to Allen.

Harry
tore the paper off and opened the box. A key-ring with three keys on
it fell into his hand. He looked up at Allen. "Keys?"

Allen
grinned, "Observant as ever, Harry. Look closer."

Harry
examined the keys more closely. There were two that were obviously
car keys, and one that looked like a house key. He blinked when he
recognized the car keys. "You don't mean..."

Allen
shrugged, "Viridian's up and running. All she needs now is some
body work, electrical tweaking, and a coat of paint."

"But
I can't possibly -"

"Yes,
you can, Harry. You've done more work on that truck than the rest
of us combined. I had Nigel pick it up from a junkyard for next to
nothing. She's yours, now. I do expect you to continue working on
her until she's in showroom condition, though." His smile grew
broader.

"What's
the other key, then? It's not a car key."

"Simple,
really. I talked it over with Jennifer, and if you ever need it,
we've got a spare room for you. I know you want to get out of the
Dursleys' place. Frankly, I don't blame you."

"Nonsense!
Harry, you're a good kid. You shouldn't listen to what those
creatures you live with tell you. I know your aunt is all caught up
in 'what the neighbors think,' well... I've half a mind to go
over there today and tell her. You don't realize it, Harry, but
the Dursleys are almost universally despised by everyone in the
neighborhood. It's only been some fast money on your uncle's
part that's kept your cousin out of jail. People aren't blind
and they need to realize that. We can all see that you're a great
kid, but they treat you like dirt. Half the neighborhood would take
you in in a heartbeat, if you'd let them."

After
the party drew to a close, Harry returned to the Dursley residence.
It was still relatively early, only seven, so Harry set about mowing
the grass. He also weeded the flowerbeds in the back of the house
and made sure that the hedges didn't need trimming. He collapsed
on his bed in Dudley's second bedroom just as the last light of the
day faded from the sky. His thoughts kept running around themselves,
chasing each other. He had a lot to take in; from Remus'
conversation that afternoon to the unexpected gift from his boss. He
hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until a hand shook him awake.
He blearily opened his eyes to see Remus standing beside his bed. A
glance at his clock showed that it was ten. "Sorry to wake you,
Harry, but we really do need to finish up our chat from earlier this
afternoon."

"Shh!
They'll hear you!" Harry whispered.

Remus
smiled and shouted, "NO, THEY WON'T!"

Harry
jumped at the sudden noise, but when Vernon's distinctive footfalls
didn't start towards his room, he relaxed. He noticed his glasses
were rather blurry and took them off to polish clean on his blanket.
"How's that?"

"Silencing
charm." Remus explained, "Magic's rather useful for things like
that." He smiled and pulled the rickety wooden chair up next to
Harry's bed from it's position by the desk.

"I
don't mean to sound rude, but could I get a more... obvious
demonstration?"

"Of
course." Remus pulled his wand out and pointed it at Harry.
"Occulus reparo." Harry jumped again as the large
quantity of tape holding his glasses together disappeared, revealing
the thick, plastic frames to be completely unmarked. Remus then
stood and repeated the reparo charm on the desk chair and
grabbed a pencil from said desk. The pencil morphed into a serving
tray and Remus sat it on the bed, next to Harry, before conjuring two
cups of tea and a porcelain tea pot. "Do you take sugar, lemon,
cream, or honey?" Harry just shook his head. "Enough
demonstrating?"

"Yes."
Harry reached for one of the cups, as did Remus. "I can do that?"

"After
some training, you should be able to do that and a whole lot more."

"My
parents could do what you just did?"

Remus
chuckled, "Yes, Harry."

"So,
this is what you meant when you said some things that are inherited
can't be sold..."

"Precisely.
While we're on the topic of money, though, I do have some
paperwork you'll have to sign. Like I said before, legal age for a
wizard is seventeen, and we do need to get through most of this
before midnight."

"Why
midnight?" Harry asked as Remus dug into a satchel he'd brought
with him that Harry was just now noticing.

"Because...
Well, to be quite frank, no one from the wizarding world has been
able to confirm your existence for the last six years. We've only
had vague information from Albus Dumbledore that you were still alive
and well. Nothing that would hold up in a court, so-to-speak. Since
that last contact anyone had with you was on your eleventh birthday,
there are laws that state you can be declared legally dead after six
years. If that were to happen, all the properties and money your
parents left you would become government property. Hence, why I was
sent to locate you."

Harry
shook his head. "How could they declare me dead? I'm rather
alive at the moment."

"It
has to do with what I said about no one having seen you in six years.
When your aunt kept you from going to school at Hogwarts, there were
repercussions. Look, I'll go into more detail about the how's
and why's later. What you need to do is read through this and make
sure you sign everywhere it says to." He handed Harry a pile of
parchment scrolls. "Don't worry about the legal jargon too much
right now. Just scan through them. If you hurry, we should have
just enough time."

Harry
shrugged. He trusted Remus, now that he'd proved he was what he
claimed. He reached for the first scroll and started unrolling it.
"Will I get copies of all of this?"

Remus
nodded, "These are your copies. Once signed, duplicates will
appear in the proper places in the government, as well as at
Gringots."

"Gringots?"

"The
wizard bank."

"Oh."
Harry turned his attention to the scroll before him. He reached the
first place his signature was needed, "Pen?" Remus handed him a
fountain pen. Harry dutifully signed his name. A few moments later,
he signed it again. And again. One-by-one, the parchment scrolls
were signed, flashed gold to indicate the copies had been delivered
to their proper locations, and set aside. Harry's hand was
cramping as he signed the last scroll. It flashed and he set it
aside, massaging his wrist. "Is that all?" He'd kept count.
He had signed his name five hundred, eighty three times.

"Yes,
Harry, that's all of them. Just in time, too," Remus said,
indicating the clock. It now read five minutes until midnight.

"Fantastic."
Harry yawned.

"Looks
like the rest of our discussion can wait until the morning, Harry.
Sleep well."

"See
you tomorrow, Remus."

Remus
nodded and took down the silencing charm just before apparating away.
Harry barely noticed; he set the alarm for the next morning and was
asleep before his head hit the rather lumpy pillow.

A/N2: I know I have a boatload of unfinished fics to work on, but most of them I know
the ending to, I just haven't had the time to write the ends yet.
This one crept up on me and even I don't know precisely where it will
go. I just have a general idea as to some of the things I want to
include. If any of you would like to contribute anything, let me
know. If your idea gets used, I'll mention who sent the idea and
what the idea was in the AN of the chapter it's included in.

Remember to let me know what you think, in any case.

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.